


handmade heaven

by blazeofglory



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Affairs, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Harry Potter, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-10-26 12:59:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17746349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blazeofglory/pseuds/blazeofglory
Summary: “I know we made plans, but when Astoria requests my attendance at a banquet, I can’t just say no,” Draco explains, an edge of exasperation in his voice, even as he gently cards his fingers through Harry’s mess of hair. “Honestly, Harry, it’s like you forget that I’m married.”





	handmade heaven

**Author's Note:**

> as always, love and thanks to my partner-in-crime Sina ❤️

“I hope you realize the irony in this,” Draco says, and Harry huffs. 

“It’s not like I’m _jealous_ ,” Harry protests, resolutely ignoring the disbelieving look Draco gives him. “I’m _not_ , I just thought we had plans this weekend.” 

Draco sighs, shifting closer and wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist. Harry obliges, tucking himself against Draco’s side and resting his head on Draco’s bony shoulder. They’re laying naked in bed together, and up until a minute ago, Harry had been feeling rather content with the state of things.

“I know we made plans, but when Astoria requests my attendance at a banquet, I can’t just say no,” Draco explains, an edge of exasperation in his voice, even as he gently cards his fingers through Harry’s mess of hair. “Honestly, Harry, it’s like you forget that I’m married.”

“You don’t have to be an arsehole about it.” Harry sits up abruptly, dislodging Draco’s arm, and he very carefully does not look at the expression on Draco’s face as he climbs out of bed. He fumbles with his glasses on the nightstand, attempting to rub them clean with the edge of the bedsheet and growing increasingly frustrated when they just get more and more smudged.

“Harry,” Draco starts, but Harry cuts in before he can say anything else.

“It’s fine,” Harry says, shoving the smudged glasses onto his face anyway. He chances a glance at Draco, who’s now sitting up in bed, sheets pooled in his lap, and frowning at Harry.

With a tired sigh, Harry slips on a pair of boxers and starts looking around for Draco’s clothes, piling them up on the edge of the bed.

“You should go,” Harry says after the silence has stretched on too long and he’s finally located Draco’s last sock. Draco still hasn’t moved. “It’s getting late and I know better than to ask you to stay.”

“You know that I would if I could,” Draco says immediately, and Harry hates that he isn’t even sure if he should believe that or not. “Look, I’m sorry about this weekend, I know you were looking forward to it.” 

Harry sits down heavily on the edge of the bed, his back to Draco. Merlin, this is stupid. It’s been stupid the entire time, but Harry’s been too caught up in the passion to realize it. At the beginning, there was something so appealing about keeping this torrid affair a secret, something sexy and enticing in the illicitness of it all. It was a thrill to sneak around with Draco, back when they barely tolerated each other and only bothered to hide away in broom closets at the ministry because the sex was too electrifying to resist.

It stopped being fun around the time Harry realized that he’d gone and fallen in love, like a bloody idiot.

“You’ll make it up to me,” Harry replies. He finally turns to look behind him, meeting Draco’s steady gaze, and Harry forces a small smile. “You always do.”

Draco shoves the blankets aside and moves closer, pressing his warm body to Harry’s back. Harry hates himself, just a little, when he leans into it instead of pulling away. But, really, what would be the point in pulling away now? He’s already in too deep. Even his friends have noticed, despite the fact that he hasn’t said a single word about it to any of them-- but Ron and Hermione claim they know what he looks like when he’s in love, and they’re dying to know who the lucky man is. Sometimes Harry wonders what it would be like if he could tell them, if he could bring Draco over to have dinner with them-- would they get to know him like Harry has; would they like him? Would they approve?

Of course, Harry can’t help but think, they’d never approve of him being with a married man, even if they could accept Harry dating a Malfoy. It’s a ridiculous train of thought anyway.

“I’m sorry,” Draco says again, pressing a soft kiss to the side of Harry’s neck, arms wrapped around him, warm and comfortable and familiar. “Next month, she’ll be out of town for a few weeks, you and I can do whatever we’d like.”

“That better be a promise,” Harry says, a genuine smile finding its way to his lips despite his inner turmoil. “I love it when you fuck me in your bed.”

“I promise,” Draco obliges with another kiss, nipping at the skin of Harry’s neck. “I’ll send the house elves away and I’ll close the Floo, no one will bother us.”

Another kiss, lingering longer than the last, and Harry moans softly.

“You can sleep in my bed with me, darling,” Draco whispers in his ear. He slides his hands up slowly, rubbing a ghost of touch to Harry’s nipples, leaving him wanting more. “How does that sound?”

“It sounds perfect,” Harry whispers back, shifting eagerly against Draco, ready to go again even though it’s hardly been an hour since they last fucked. “I can pretend that you’re mine.”

Draco stills suddenly and Harry blinks his eyes open, not even realizing that he’d closed them.

“Harry…”

“I know,” Harry says with a sigh. He turns around, positioning himself in Draco’s lap, his hands in Draco’s hair, ready to drag him into a kiss and distract him from what would surely be an uncomfortable conversation-- but Draco’s hands close on his wrists, tugging his hands away. Draco keeps a sturdy grasp on Harry’s wrists, holding them between them, an intense look in his grey eyes.

“ _Do_ you know?” Draco asks carefully, brows furrowed. Harry looks away, glaring at the rumpled sheets.

“I know what this is,” Harry replies stubbornly. “Trust me, I haven’t actually forgotten that you’re married.”

“You’re being an idiot.”

Harry tries to pull away again, but Draco doesn’t let go.

“ _Harry_ ,” Draco says sharply, and Harry looks up to meet his eyes again. To his surprise, Draco doesn’t look angry. “Don’t be daft, you don’t have to pretend that I’m yours. I already am.”

“No, you’re not,” Harry protests. This time, when he tries to move away, Draco releases his wrists and lets him stand. Suddenly, stupidly, Harry feels as if he might start to cry. “You’re hers. Not mine.”

“Just because she took my bloody last name doesn’t mean that I’m hers,” Draco refutes, tossing his hands up in frustration. “You know I had no choice and you know I don’t love her.”

“Do you love _me_?”

Draco looks stricken; Harry flushes bright red. He didn’t mean to say that, he shouldn’t have said it, he’s said too much and now Draco is going to know that Harry is in love with him, and maybe that’s the final straw, maybe Draco has had enough--

“Of course I love you,” Draco whispers, standing now too and reaching up to hold Harry’s face. The look on his face is almost too tender to bear. “I thought you knew.”

Harry doesn’t know what to say to that, so he kisses Draco instead, heady and desperate and overflowing with emotions he can’t quite name. He lets Draco guide him back into bed, pressed into the mattress by Draco’s weight, and there’s nowhere Harry would rather be.

“I love you,” Draco whispers again, his lips soft on Harry’s skin where he presses a kiss right over his pounding heart. “You’re the only one that matters, Harry.”

Harry threads his fingers through Draco’s hair, lest he lose his tether on reality.

“She won’t be around forever,” Draco continues, reaching down between them to shove down Harry’s boxers and stroke his rapidly hardening cock, and Harry moans quietly. “I need you to know that, darling, I’m going to leave her the second I can.”

“You are?” Harry asks, breathless, suddenly sure that this is a dream.

“Mmhmm,” Draco murmurs, still stroking Harry slowly. It’s torturous, Harry wants _more_ , but he doesn’t say a word to ask for more, too caught up in listening to Draco’s smooth voice. “She and I have discussed it at great length, she doesn’t want this marriage any more than I do. Once we produce an heir, we will quietly part ways.”

An _heir_. Harry doesn’t let himself dwell on this-- the thought of Draco sleeping with his wife will kill his erection if he thinks about it for more than a second. And the thought of Draco with a child, _raising_ a child, is too foreign to even consider. Yet, Draco’s words fill him hope-- this may not remain a shameful secret forever. Harry lets himself get lost in the fantasy, sinking into it easily.

“And then-- then you and I can be together?”

“Yes,” Draco says simply, shifting down the bed to pull Harry’s boxers off all the way and toss them aside. Without even thinking about it, Harry spreads his legs easily, and he grins at the hungry look on Draco’s face.

“I love you too,” Harry finally says, still smiling, and Draco laughs softly, swooping down to kiss Harry more gently than he has all night.

“I know,” Draco replies with a matching smile. Harry loves him like this, with his hair a mess and his cheeks pink, naked and happy and all Harry’s. He wants to see this every bloody day of his life. Draco raises a brow, haughty and beautiful. “Now, do you want to keep talking, or do you want me to fuck you?”

Harry rolls his eyes, hooking his legs around Draco’s hips and pulling them flush together. “What, did you forget how to multitask?”

“You’re a brat,” Draco says, though he reaches for his wand on the bedside table and murmurs a lubrication charm. Seconds later, Harry feels two wet fingers pushing inside him, where he’s still loose from earlier. He groans, eyes falling shut, savoring the feeling of sudden fullness.

Draco lets out a low chuckle and whispers in a low, seductive voice, “You want me to keep talking? What do you want to hear, Harry? Do you want me to tell you how tight and _hot_ your arse feels? Do you want me to tell you that you’re the best fuck I’ve ever had?”

Harry can’t help but whimper, pushing back against Draco, fucking himself on Draco’s fingers. He can feel himself blushing, pleased and embarrassed all at once, and he has no intention of pulling away or asking Draco to shut up. He’s so hard it almost _hurts_ , and he wants nothing more than for Draco to fuck him until he can’t think straight.

“You’re so eager for it,” Draco says with a groan, sliding another finger inside Harry and eliciting a sharp gasp. “You take it so _well_ , my love. Tell me, do you want more?”

“Yes,” Harry gasps out immediately, already out of breath. “Fuck me. _Please_.”

“Well, since you asked nicely,” Draco drawls, like the absolute prat he is, and Harry lets out a breathless laugh. 

“ _Draco_ ,” Harry whines, and Draco laughs too, and he’s never looked more beautiful than he does right now-- Harry just has to kiss him. Draco smiles against his lips, and it may just be the sweetest thing that Harry’s ever felt. 

After a few moments, Harry pulls back and they smile at each other for a second-- but then Harry is pointedly spreading his legs, bending his knees up toward his chest, and Draco’s eyes go dark with desire. 

Draco removes his fingers, sinfully slow, and slicks up his cock with another murmured charm. Harry takes in the sight of him, the hair falling across Draco’s forehead, the flush in his cheeks, the hickey on his chest that Harry had forgotten he left there earlier, and his long, beautiful fingers, wrapped around that perfect cock. Merlin, how Harry wants him.

“You’re bloody perfect,” Draco says softly, reverence writ large on his face, and then he’s pushing inside and Harry’s eyes fall shut as he groans loudly. Draco’s cock inside him feels _amazing_ , it feels familiar and brand new all at once, like the thousandth time they’ve done this but just as exhilarating as the first time, it feels like everything Harry’s ever needed, it’s absolution and it’s sin--

“ _Fuck_ ,” Harry swears when Draco fucks into him hard and fast, shoving Harry a few inches up the bed, rocking the entire bed frame so that it knocks into the wall. Oh, he’s going to be feeling this for _days_ , and he relishes the thought. He reaches up, blindly, and grasps the headboard behind him with both hands, holding on tight as Draco fucks him. It’s so _much_ , almost too much since this is the third time they’ve fucked in the past six hours, but it’s just what Harry needs. Draco fucks him and Harry _takes_ it, moaning and swearing and arching up into it, flushed bright red and sweating like he’s run a marathon.

“I’m going to make you come,” Draco says after several long, blissful moments have passed. He sounds breathless and Harry finally opens his eyes, squinting through fogged-up glasses, to glimpse the wild look on his lover’s face. Draco smirks. “You can come untouched, can’t you, love?”

“I--” Harry cuts himself off with a drawn-out moan as Draco hits his prostate _hard_ , scattering any rational thought left in his mind. “Ye--yeah, Draco, anything you want.”

Draco laughs softly, still keeping up his punishing pace, adding to the cacophony of sound in the room-- Harry’s moans, both of them breathing hard, their skin slapping together, the headboard hitting the wall-- and he grabs Harry’s thighs, pulling them up onto Draco’s shoulders, and maybe it should be uncomfortable, but suddenly the angle is so _deep_ that Harry can’t fucking think. His whole world is narrowed down to this bed, this man, these hands on his thighs, and this cock in his ass. He could die happy like this.

“Merlin, you’re amazing,” Draco says, and all Harry can do is make a needy sound in answer. He’s so _close_ , his cock aching and his whole body tingling, on edge, ready, desperate to come. His eyes slip shut again as he feels his orgasm building up to a crescendo.

“Yeah,” Draco murmurs, fucking Harry deep and rough and satisfying. “You’re a good boy, Harry.”

Harry comes hard, back arching up off the bed, nails digging into the headboard, a moan that’s practically a scream wrenched out of his throat, painting both of their bodies in his come. He’s still gasping for breath, eyes still closed, when he feels Draco pull out and gently ease Harry’s legs back down. Harry is sure that the soreness will come later, but right now, he feels _amazing_. He blinks open his eyes, a sated smile on his face, and watches as Draco strokes his own cock once, twice, three times, and then he’s coming on Harry’s stomach, adding to the mess.

“Best fuck I’ve ever had,” Draco repeats, breathless, and Harry’s smile widens. Draco eyes the mess between them, then drags a fingertip through their come, and Harry’s already parting his lips for Draco’s finger when he reaches up. He licks Draco’s finger clean, sucking it into his mouth for good measure, ‘til Draco slowly pulls back and then leans in close to kiss Harry softly.

After a moment, Draco shifts, laying down next to Harry, both of them still catching their breath.

“I think you broke me,” Harry muses, once he can finally find his voice again. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“You’ll be fine,” Draco replies with a chuckle. He turns on his side, meeting Harry’s eyes and smiling unselfconsciously. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Harry answers immediately, and then he just has to kiss Draco again. Draco is _his_ and Draco loves him-- and even though Draco is going to go home to someone else, this is enough for now. 


End file.
